The Society
by alwaysxsaidsnape
Summary: Beauxabatons Academy of Magic is a place where popularity is like a drug, sex is like a weapon, and power is the only way to get noticed.
1. It started off with a kiss

The Society will be a series of one-shots that are connected by one thing.  
They are all about Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.  
They will be written by me and Michelle (runninginair).  
It's just something that was requested and a lot of fun.  
Each Chapter will be signed by its author.  
And look out for the Durmstrang Series that will be coming along as well.  
Thanks to the lovely Sylvia (tumblr user: grenadeaugustus) for the prompts.  
If you have any requests or prompts just PM them to me.

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**The Society - Part One: It Started Off With A Kiss  
By: alwaysxsaidsnape**

The parties at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic were all light, crystal, and champagne. Even the music seemed to be light and crystalline the way it tinkered around the room and hummed off of every champagne flute. Crystal orbs hovered up near the ceiling filled with magic fire to illuminate the dance floor and the many tables that littered the Dining Chamber. Everything was white and light blue, from the table linens to the napkins in their silver rings. Chatter filled the air so that it rode the musical notes delicately, but unless you were in the center of a conversation, it was difficult to discern anything clearly.

Even though the school was all about the cool and light color schemes, most of the dresses in the hall were in stark contrast to the surroundings. No girl wore white or light blue. There was a spectrum of colors on the dance floor as girls were twirled and dipped in time with the music.

Giselle Meraux sat at one of the bigger tables in her bright pink, halter-top dress with her hands in her lap. Her fingers were fidgeting with a small glass vial that felt as heavy as an anvil in her hands. It was a heart-shaped vial – a sick joke by Brigitte – and it was filled with a liquid possessing a mother-of-pearl sheen and the ability to make people fall in love. It was a vile thing, if you asked Giselle, but she held it in her hands like it was her future.

Truth be told, it was.

The vial was her ticket into the social elite, and if you were not elite in Beauxbatons, then you were absolutely no one. The fastest way to becoming one of the elite was to become a member of the Society. They controlled everything in Beauxbatons and so many things out of it. Rumor had it that the Minster of Magic was a member, and he had gotten his post because of it, but that was probably just a rumor. Giselle had no doubt that the Society was just some silly school group that got together to make fun of the other students. Brigitte said the Society got together to make things happen. She made it seem like they controlled who got together and who broke up. The way that Brigitte told it, the Society sounded like a demented puppet master, but Giselle could not deny that she wanted to be one of them.

"You know, the longer you wait the heavier your feet will become," Brigitte said delicately from behind Giselle.

A hand touched Giselle's blond hair, and she nearly jumped out of her seat, but she settled when that same hand fell to her shoulder. Brigitte had the type of voice that made people feel as if they would melt into a puddle of ooze at her feet, because it was sexual in its delicateness. Giselle was so jealous of her, because Brigitte had the entire world at her fingertips; she knew the right people, and she knew the right words to say to them. Her red hair framed her round face perfectly as she turned to look at Claudette with a smirk on her devilish lips. Claudette shot a hopeful look at Giselle, but she merely looked away from her, and Claudette got the message. The girl quickly got up from her seat, and Brigitte took it in a single graceful motion.

"Such a drab this party is," Brigitte complained as she pulled a strawberry from the center table and put it to her lips. Was it possible that her lips were redder than a ripe strawberry and looked just as enticing? It would seem so. "When are you going to do it? I'm in need of some entertainment."

Giselle shot a glance over to the table across from her own where a boy with curly hair down to his shoulders sat with his arm around a girl as he leaned in to whisper something in her ear. The girl looked absolutely taken with him, and he looked absolutely taken with her, but Yves Mercier was going to find himself with someone else tonight if Giselle did her job.

The bottle of Amortentia felt heavy in her hands again, and she fiddled with it, flipping it over and over again till she wasn't sure which side was up. Giselle had yet to figure out how she was going to slip him the potion, and she wasn't comfortable with doing it, not knowing with who it would make the boy fall in love. Of course, the red-head beside her pretended like it didn't matter who it was with, because it only truly mattered that it happened. This was foolish, but fame was just a slip of the wrist away if she could bring herself to do it.

"Don't be droll, Giselle," Brigitte begged as she took a sip of Giselle's pink champagne. "I'll bring him here; have a glass of champagne ready for him. Just make it happen, and watch the chaos unfold."

Brigitte left Giselle with her thoughts then and stood from the table. For a moment, she was happy that the girl was gone, but then she caught sight of her walking over to Yves. The girl was the epitome of beauty in her black dress, the glittering bodice putting all the crystal in the Dining Chamber to shame. Her lily-white skin was perfect and unblemished, and Giselle was annoyed as she watched her own the entire space around her. The boys at Yves' table, including Yves himself, looked up at her in rapt attention, and she offered a delicate hand to the curly-haired target for the evening. He took it without pause and left his lovely date behind, looking as if he'd struck her in the face.

The two of them were lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor, Yves was just another black blur among the boys in their fancy suits, and Brigitte blended in with the other girls despite her usual overpowering nature. Giselle took the moment to breathe and pull three glasses from one of the floating trays as the empty glasses floated off the table. She looked around quickly and hoped that no one was looking at her, but she shouldn't have been worried; no one ever really noticed her. The vial was tiny and easy enough to conceal in one hand. So, she pulled the cork out of it and poured the contents into one of the glasses before swirling the champagne a few times to distribute it evenly.

The moment the potion was uncorked, she could smell fresh celery, clean linen, and nail polish. Giselle didn't have too much time to think on it, because the scent left before long, and she merely capped the vial once more and slipped it into the front of her dress. No one would notice it there.

It seemed like the song had gone on for hours when it finally ended, and Brigitte led Yves by the hand back to her table. Giselle was not surprised that he didn't even acknowledge her existence till he sat down next to her and had to reach over her to get a glass of champagne. He took the one closest to him - the one that was spiked, thank Merlin.

"Oh, hello, pet," Yves greeted with a grin on his lips that made Giselle's stomach flip. "What's your name?"

"Uhm, Giselle."

"Such a pretty name; it matches your face."

Giselle blushed, but she nearly choked on her response as he downed the rest of his flute of champagne. She was waiting for something to happen, but he merely continued looking at her waiting on an answer. Maybe the spell was a dud and Brigitte had given her something that didn't work just to see if she would do it. Giselle was about to start breathing easier when someone slid into the open seat next to Yves.

It was a boy that she barely knew, but he had the kind of face that no one could forget. His features were devious in the shape of his eyes and the straightness of his nose that brought attention to the cupid-bow shape of his full lips. Blond hair swept carelessly over his forehead, but it was styled away from his eyes, which was a blessing. Those blue eyes of his were so icy they resembled the exact shade of the sky before a snow storm. The boy was prettier than Brigitte, and he looked so handsome in his finely-made suit and his thin blue tie – the color of which only brought out the intensity of his eyes even further.

"Etienne!" Brigitte exclaimed in an excited manner as she reached over the table to grab his hand.

The two of them were far too pretty to be friends, but it seemed like they had an understanding of one another. Brigitte was smiling so wide Giselle wondered if her face hurt at all because of it, while Etienne offered her a sly smirk in return. Something about the way he smiled made Giselle think of the devil that her grandmother feared. Her grandmother had told her plenty of times that the devil didn't come with horns, hooved feet, and red skin; he came with a smirk that can make your knees weak and a voice that could easily lead you into hell.

"Brigitte, my sweet," Etienne greeted her with a voice that was like silk to the ears. "I haven't seen much of you tonight."

"Oh, you know me, I like to mingle."

"Yes, I know."

Giselle had been too busy staring at Etienne herself to realize that Yves was staring at him, too. Yves had a look of love on his face as he took in Etienne, his eyes shining with affection and his lips slightly parted as if he had something resting on the tip of his tongue that needed to be said. With horror, Giselle realized that the potion she had slipped into the champagne was not a dud at all, and the creator of the potion was now sitting next to Yves.

"Hello, love," he offered to Yves.

"You are the most ravishing thing I have ever seen," Yves stammered as he sidled up closer to Etienne's seat.

"Why, thank you, I hear that a lot."

"I have no doubt, and I pray that you can forgive me for being so forward."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find that I am quite a forgiving man."

Yves was supposed to be the epitome of the perfect man at Beauxbatons, because he was a ladies man and he broke hearts everywhere he went, but here he was sitting next to Giselle with his eyes completely glued to Etienne's face as if he was the only person in the entire room. It was unsettling, but it was made even worse due to how Etienne visibly basked in the attention. He was a preening peacock, and he knew that he had Yves' undivided attention, because he even winked at Giselle when he looked at her. She could only imagine how obvious her discomfort was on her face, and that wink made her stomach roll, but Brigitte was laughing next to her.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Giselle darling," Brigitte said as she tucked some of Giselle's blond hair behind her ear. "It will only last a little while, and he will get over the embarrassment. Plus, Etienne hasn't had any fun yet."

Perhaps she should have been a bit more scared for Yves, but Giselle found herself smiling at Brigitte. It wasn't like they were going to do anything worse to him, and her job with the whole thing was done. She had poured Yves a glass full of that potion, and now he was riding it out. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

Giselle thought that too soon, because the moment it formed in her mind, she turned to find Yves pulling Etienne closer to him by the back of his neck. Etienne was pliant in his strong hands and leaned forward with a grin on his lips, but that grin was gone the moment Yves kissed him. The kiss was a passionate one with Yves pulling Etienne onto his lap by his hips and ravaging his mouth with hungry teeth and a delicate tongue.

The Society had struck again.


	2. But It's Better If You Do

**The Society - Part Two: But It's Better If You Do  
By: runninginair **

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The champagne tickled the back of his throat as he took another sip, lightly-tinted hazel eyes scanning the room of party-goers. Everywhere gowns of varying shades spun in a dizzying motion, interspersed with the black shapes of suits until the dining chamber was nothing more than a mosaic of color and flesh. But this was a normal night in Beauxbatons.

Well, normal for most of the students, anyway. For one student in particular, tonight was going to be a bit more _special._

Rainier Dubois leaned against the railing of one of many balconies at Beauxbatons Academy. The wrought-iron rail was cold against his back through the material of his tuxedo, but it was a refreshing contrast from the heat that filled his abdomen from the several glasses of champagne he had already consumed.

The large doors were held wide open by baby-blue sashes attached to the exterior of the school, letting the cool night air calm the flushed faces of the dancers, ensuring the party would go on far after everyone should have been too tired for the festivities. If people had slipped tiny amounts of pepper-up potion into the bubbling fountain from whence all the drinks came, no one said a word about it.

"Let me get one of those, _mon ami."_

The dark-haired boy who had just taken out a pack of cigarettes rolled his eyes, snorting indelicately in the back of his throat. When Rainier turned his head so the silvery glow from the hovering crystalline spheres lit on his face, though, the boy reached back into the pack, extending a hand with cigarette held between fingers.

"_Merci."_

Most of the population of this school were all the same: wealthy, beautiful, talented, and closets full of skeletons. The Dubois family was one of the wealthier ones. Did Rainier take advantage of that fact? Well, he wouldn't quite fit in here if he didn't. Smirking to himself, he lifted his wand to the cigarette, lighting the tip and taking in a long drag. The smoke made a soft, grey cloud above his head, blending in with the night sky. Yes, his family was one of the better-known among the school board, but to the youngest Dubois' dismay, he had spent six years here without a word from the Society.

Oh, the Society.

A scowl twisted the pretty-boy features, plump lips turning down at the corners as he took another hit. It had taken them long enough to contact him, alright. He had just begun to think he wasn't going to get an invitation at all – something that his father wouldn't have abided by, for certain – when Bernard Jourdan had magicked his way into Rainier's private quarters to inform him of his pending membership status and what he must do to make it a permanent position. There had been no question of 'would you like to be a member?' No one would ever say 'no.'

Everyone who was anyone at Beauxbatons was part of the Society. They shaped your future, decided if you made it in the world, had a hand in your career; their fingers were in so many pies that it was a wonder they all weren't walking around covered in crumbs and bits of filling.

In the end, it wouldn't matter how much money his family had, or how esteemed a position his father held. Without the Society, Rainier would get nowhere fast.

A tap of his finger had ashes spiraling over the side of the railing, drifting down to the ground far below. The music drifted out of the open doors, a simple waltz number now, and he watched as the couples all danced together in perfect unison; not a single dancer out of time, not a single foot out of step. It was beautiful in its symmetry, but boring in its sameness. That was how _everything_ was here.

Except that, this time, Rainier wasn't going to attend the entire dance. His _initiation_ was going to take place tonight. His task, just as his entire life, was easy. He had heard the horrific rumors of things people had been forced to do to become a member of the elite, terrifying feats to be performed, devilish tricks to be done to others…but Rainier? All he had to do was sleep with a professor.

_Morceau de gâteau__._

Another tip of his wrist, and the rest of the pale gold liquid slid down his throat. A tap of his wand on the glass had it vanishing into nowhere, and he strode back into the party, flicking his cigarette behind him as he went. He had thought for a while over _which_ professor he was going to seduce tonight. Madame Moreau was his first thought: recently divorced, pushing forty, beautiful but reserved. Bits of conversation floated past his ears, but he ignored them all, because the professor he _had _decided on was refilling her glass at the fountain. The swell of her dress exemplified her figure perfectly, accenting the best parts. Though, truthfully, she was one of the most beautiful women in the school – period.

"Madame Legrand."

"Monsieur Dubois."

She turned to regard him, her dark hair pinned elegantly atop her head, dark blue feathers artistically arranged to complement the deep shades of her dress. Bosom nearly toppling out of the corseted top, hips given prominence by the bell shape of the bottom of the gown, and lips painted a startling red, she looked every bit the temptress and nothing like a professor. Then again, none of the professors ever looked 'professional.' Not really. Everything in Beauxbatons was a competition, and that did not only extend to the students.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Madame?"

"Please, call me Elisa. We are not in class at present."

A pleasant smile lifted up the corners of his lips, the niceness of the expression perfectly hiding the devious plot beneath it. This was going to be all too easy.

"Of course, Elisa." He moved a few steps closer, brushing his arm against hers under the pretense of reaching for a fresh glass.

A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, something far more subtle than the twirling and spinning going on across the dance floor. Shifting his gaze, he saw Bernard take a seat at a nearby table, his sharp, brown eyes focusing directly on Rainier. Without letting Madame Legrand see, the blond inclined his head just slightly to the elder student. He had to stifle a rolling of the eyes at the impatience pulling at Bernard's eyebrows. Yes, yes, he was getting on with it.

The Society was as impatient as they were devious.

"You still haven't answered my question."

Madame Legrand wet her lips with her champagne. "What question was that, Rainier?"

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

Her hand fluttered in the air about them as if she was brushing away a pesky insect. "These parties are all the same. You attend one, you attend them all. Truthfully, I would not even bother to attend if it were not part of my duties as a _professeure_."

"Could I, at the very least, interest you in a dance? Maybe dancing with a handsome man will make it less drab and dreary?"

It was difficult to have much of an effect on most of the women at Beauxbatons, mainly because they knew just how attractive they were and certainly didn't need a man to reaffirm that for them. Maybe it was due to their age difference, but Elisa's chest flushed with a comely rosy color. Champagne glasses clinked as they met the table, and Rainier took the extended hand.

"You flatter an old woman, Rainier Dubois."

"I'm not trying to flatter you, Elisa, and you are most certainly not an 'old woman.'" Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, Rainier led his professor between a few tables and onto the dance floor. As if perfectly orchestrated – which, knowing the Society, it probably was – the music slowed down as soon as they had joined both of their hands together. Without waiting for her to accept the movement, Rainier pulled Elisa against his chest, gently swaying from side to side, the dance steps he had been trained in since birth flowing smoothly down his legs and into his feet.

"I do believe this is rather inappropriate, Rainier."

Her tone belied her words; breathy and soft, they drifted up to his ear. With her head pressed near his shoulder, she couldn't see his lips, and he let a smirk dance across it as he danced across the floor.

"We are doing nothing more than dancing, Elisa. There is nothing wrong with this. Besides, as you previously stated, we are not in a classroom at present. Surely no one will mind a young man dancing with a beautiful woman."

Her shoulders shook delicately with a soft laugh. "You have a devil's tongue, Rainier."

Hazel eyes shifted to the side, finding Bernard still staring hard at the couple. "I have been told that more than once, Elisa, so you may be right. Tell me, though, would your chaperoning duties be missed if you were to, say, step out with me for a moment?"

Her dark eyes blinked up at him, cheeks now matching that soft blush that decorated the tops of her breasts. "Oh, now, that is _truly_ inappropriate, Monsieur Dubois."

"That was not a no, Madame Legrand."

For a fleeting moment, he thought she would refute him. Maybe her morals would have been too strong to allow her to break that code of conduct forbidding teachers to have sexual relations with their students.

But this was Beauxbatons. Here, a code of conduct was only a _suggestion_.

The attention of a younger man, as Rainier had expected, won the slightly older woman over. He saw the acceptance and excitement of such a taboo thing in her eyes, the dark brown spiking suddenly with a fire that rivaled the sparkling lanterns floating overhead. She didn't even have to verbalize her answer. Rainier interlaced his fingers with hers and pulled her towards the door; and though he didn't necessarily look, he knew Bernard would soon be following. He would stand outside the door to ensure the deed had actually been done.

That was fine with Rainier. He had never minded an audience before.

Smirking to himself again, he led his professor up the stairs towards his dorm room. It was a spacious room, and yet the large, four-poster bed seemed to take up most of the space. He used Elisa's body to close the door, turning around and pushing her against it until it clicked shut, his body swiftly following hers and pressing her against it. Her breaths were already quickened and warm against his cheek as his lips found the side of her neck, his hands beginning the process of inching the voluptuous folds of her dress up her legs.

"You know, of course, that no one must ever know of this." Her words were mere whispers into the room.

His teeth grazed her skin as his fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh.

"Of course, Madame. This will be our little secret."

Outside, Bernard pressed a palm over his mouth to stifle the chuckle bubbling up his throat. He had chosen well. Dubois would be a good addition to the Society, indeed.


End file.
